


FE Gen Fanworks Week: The Lives of Heroes

by Squishy (BurbleJerry)



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, FE Gen Week, Gen, Gender Neutral Marc | Morgan, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Harvest Scramble DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurbleJerry/pseuds/Squishy
Summary: Written for FE General Fanwork Week! Not all of the chapters will be related. These’ll be more on the short-but-sweet side. Updated the summary to show chapter names [which include prompts and characters].Chapter 1: Darkness & Light: Part 1/3 [Odin, L’Arachel, Dozla, Rennac, Summoner]Chapter 2: Flight [Gerome, Gregor, Minerva]Chapter 3: Gift: Page 1/2 [Morgan, Robin, Virion, Emmeryn]Chapter 4:Festival [All the FE13 Future Children]Chapter 5: Rival: Part 2/3 [Odin, L’Arachel]Chapter 6: Comfort: Page 2/2 [Yarne, Emmeryn]Chapter 7:Free Day: Part 3/3 [Odin, Cynthia, Morgan, L’Arachel, Dozla, Rennac]





	1. Darkness & Light: Part 1/3 [Odin, L’Arachel, Dozla, Rennac, Summoner]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fated meeting of heroes dark and light leads to a powerful alliance against the forces of evil!

“Stygian Thunder!” Lightning of a very not-dark nature struck the enemy archer, throwing them against a crumbling wall.

“For the glory of Rausten!” Divine magic flew at the same instant as the lightning. They criss-crossed, a brief show of sparkling electric color, before the divine magic hit their enemy fighter.

Charging in with the magical assault and easily ducking under energy claiming darkness and divinity, a short armored fellow with bushy green hair laughed. His axe struck their final foe down, and Dozla cackled even more in the face of victory.

Rennac followed behind the heroic trio with dragging steps. He had barely lifted his sword when that Odin Dark fellow and Princess L’Arachel and Dozla had just run off into the fray. He saw why Kiran put them together, sure. On the other hand, for Rennac, it was like meeting a second variation of L’Arachel. 

“Come, Rennac! We must defeat the Emblian Empire and save this world!” L’Arachel bid. Beside her horse, Dozla cackled with his usual glee in combat. To her other side, that Odin guy was in some weird pose. Or Odin was having a cramp in his arm, Rennac wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Yeah, I’m coming, one moment,” Rennac called back, glancing around as he did. The Emblians lay on the ground amidst the ruins and grass. He stepped around them, looking for a familiar hooded figure that should be nearby.

Said hooded figure stood in the safety of some trees, regarding their weird summoning sacred item thing. Spotting them, Rennac jogged up to the fellow. He grasped their shoulders, looked deeply into the dark recesses of their cowl, and whispered, “Send be back.” Before the surprised summoner could respond, Dozla had caught up to him. 

“Don’t keep the Princess waiting!” chided the man as, with a merry laugh, he grabbed Rennac’s arm and dragged him away to the next fight. The summoner followed at a safe distance; was that concern on their barely-visible features? Rennac wondered if he were doomed to a life of crazy adventuring, not that he put up much resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, L’Arachel can have offensive magic in this world because she deserves it. #Let L’Arachel Kick Butt 2k18.


	2. Flight [Gerome, Gregor, Minerva]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been years since Minerva, of the doomed future, saw Gregor alive.

Gregor’s Daily Drinking(™) was going well. It was only mid-day, and already Gregor was experiencing a pleasant buzz. But when a shadow fell over Gregor, the mercenary briefly wondered if he’d finally had too much. A friendly growl dismissed the silly thought from Gregor’s mind.

“Minerva! What brings you to see Gregor today?” He grinned up at the dragon before noticing the lanky lad by her side, “And Gerome! What brings you both to Gregor?”

Gerome’s stiff expression just barely cracked when he bowed, “I wished to thank you for saving Minerva when she was young.”

Gregor’s brows raised high with his surprise, “Oi, Gregor and Cherche already-”

“I know,” Gerome interrupted quickly, “But… it has been so long since my Minerva saw you that she wanted to visit, and I decided to add my thanks. If not for Minerva, I…” he hesitated, and a nudge from Minerva was enough to make him finish, “I would have been alone, in our time and in this one.” 

Minerva growled her agreement, and her great head leaned forward to nudge Gregor affectionately. Gregor laughed and patted her snoot.

“Well, Gregor is accepting of your thanks!” Gregor laughed, before he sobered up fast, “Did Cherche ever tell you that story?”

“Not in full,” Gerome admitted. Gregor patted the empty seat beside him, and with another nudge from Minerva, Gerome reluctantly sat down. Minerva settled beside them, nearly knocking over some nearby tents.

“Relax and let Gregor regale you with stories of his past!” Gregor laughed and began the story, from his stint with the mercenaries to defying their orders to save a small wyvern. Many stories followed after, and surprisingly, Gerome lingered for them. It might’ve been Minerva’s influence, with her listening attentively, but Gregor suspected that Gerome was genuinely interested, despite himself.

When Gerome finally took his leave, evening had fallen upon him. He stood and bowed, thanking Gregor before walking off with Minerva. Gregor returned to his drinking, and found himself hoping that Minerva would help the lad break out of his isolated habits.


	3. Gift: Page 1/2 [Morgan, Robin, Virion, Emmeryn]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan gets an idea.

Morgan rushed into the head tactician’s tent and spoke without bothering to look for said tactician, “Father! I had this great idea-- oh, are you busy?”

“I am,” Robin confirmed, sparing Virion an apologetic smile. The two adults sat at Robin’s desk, no doubt interrupted in the middle of some discussion. “Could you wait a moment, Morgan?”

“Don’t worry about it, Robin. I don’t mind,” Virion replied with a flip of his light blue hair. He smiled indulgently at Morgan, “Go ahead, we were merely chatting.”

Morgan grinned at the archer in thanks before focusing on Father, “So, you know how Aunt Emmeryn doesn’t get a lot of company?” They barely waited for the nod to continue, “I was thinking we should spend more time with her!”

“That’s a good idea,” Robin agreed, though his brows rose when Morgan held up their hands.

“But wait! What if we teach her chess, too? Maybe working her mind will help her recover. Right?” Morgan beamed with pride at their brilliant idea, more so when they noted how Robin pondered it.

A moment of silence passed. “That’s an interesting idea,” Robin said, with his ‘slight frown because he's deep in thought’ expression.

Virion suddenly snapped his fingers, “Then it’s settled! I shall teach our former Exalt the intricacies of chess.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Robin quickly suggested, to which Virion chuckled.

“Do you not trust me around our fair lady?” Virion winked, then added, “Worry not, I will treat her with utmost respect.” Despite his sly smile, there was something serious in his expression. Robin relaxed.

“Right. Could you go see if she’s interested, Morgan?” Robin smiled at his child, “It was your idea, after all.”

“Ok!” Morgan shared a quick hug with their father before rushing off. 

Virion chuckled, “Quite the caring one, hm? Just like their father.” Robin blushed at the praise, and cleared his throat, “Thank you, but let’s get back to discussing the upcoming battle.”

Meanwhile, Morgan ran pell-mell through camp. They nearly missed Emmeryn’s tent in their haste, running first past and then right back to it. Standing before it, Morgan calmed down a little before calling out, “Auntie Emmeryn, are you there?”

“Yes… come in,” responded the soft voice of the former Exalt. Morgan pushed the flaps open and walked inside, taking in the tidiness of the tent. Emmeryn sat on the edge of her cot, a book in her hands and a gentle smile upon her face. “Morgan… it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi, Auntie!” Morgan held their arms open for a hug, unable to help their big smile. Emmeryn set her book down with care, stood slowly, and finally stepped up to Morgan to give them a warm hug. Said hug didn’t last long with Morgan being impatient and excited, and they stared up at Emmeryn proudly, “Auntie, wanna learn chess?”

“Chess?” Emmeryn tilted her head to the side, considering, “... Sure. I… would love to.” She smiled gently, though Morgan noted the confusion in the subtle furrow of her brows.

“Great! I thought it’d be fun to play a game together,” Morgan responds confidently, “And Dad and Virion wanted to help, too, and I think … that’s good,” they finished, a bit lamely. Saying ‘I think you could use more company’ suddenly sounded like pity, and they didn’t pity their sweet aunt. 

But Emmeryn nodded as if she completely understood, “That sounds… fun. Thank you, Morgan.”

“You’re welcome!” Morgan perked with a grin, “I'll go get them now!” They rushed out before Emmeryn could say anything further. Watching them leave, Emmeryn resumed sitting upon her cot to wait, feeling joy that her family loved her so much.


	4. Festival [All the FE13 Future Children]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who come from a doomed future rest after events during the Harvest Scramble.

“Anybody else hurt?” Brady called out. He waited a moment. 

“No? Good.” The exhausted priest sat upon a nearby chair. It was part of an outdoor restaurant set-up, and though the table was smashed to kindling, the chairs for it remained intact. He didn’t feel like questioning the convenience.

Brady realized the other seat was occupied just a moment before she spoke, “Thank you for working so hard, Brady, but are you hurt? You seem tired.” He startled, lifting his staff menacingly, then realized who it was.

“Don’t do that! But, nah, I’m not hurt.” Brady waved off the concern and slumped back in his seat. Beside him, Lucina smiled tiredly. Her clothes were patchy with semi-dried blood, but too-new scars suggested someone had already healed her. 

“That’s good,” Lucina replied. She almost continued, before giving up with a soft sigh. Brady wondered if she felt as tired as she looked; no one had expected to fight during the festival, after all.

Looking around, Brady realized that the others from their time were congregating in roughly the same spot. They always regrouped after a battle; at first, they did so purposefully, but now it was a habit. Brady briefly wondered if their parents worried, and then hoped Ma wouldn’t murder him for not showing up.

Cynthia and Owain staggered over, supporting each other, and then simply fell upon the ground; aside from fatigue and healed injuries, they would be fine. Probably. Meanwhile, Laurent took the unused chair by Lucina, and Gerome stood near him while Minerva lounged behind her rider. Brady watched everyone converge quietly, reminded of times in the past despite the fact that civilization actually existed around them.

Nah settled upon the ground carefully. Her dress was dirty, and she still clutched her dragonstone as if expecting to use it. Yet she looked up, and a small smile lit her face, her bemused voice breaking the silence, “I knocked over a statue. But, the villagers here cheered for me, so I hope they aren’t too mad.”

“We did help save the town,” Inigo pointed out. He glanced around, then simply sat upon a nearby barrel that was only mildly battered. It creaked ominously, but held. “I think the townsfolk will be grateful. Especially the ladies.”

“Speaking of, a group of women gave me flowers earlier,” Kjelle remarked all-too-casually. She stood beside Lucina, kicking away the ruined remains of the outdoors table to make a spot for herself. Brady had to lift his feet to avoid the bits of wood, grimacing.

“They didn’t mention me, did they?” Inigo asked hopefully. 

“Nope.” Kjelle didn’t bother to hide her smirk. 

Groaning, Inigo put his head in his hands, “Great. When will some lovely lady notice my heroic deeds? Must I save a dozen, no, a hundred towns from Risen?”

Owain leapt to his feet, dust clinging to the sticky crimson on his yellow outfit. “Worry not, my arch-rival! This is but a chapter in our heroic tale, which will spread far and ride throughout all the Outrealms!” 

An expectant, and then surprised, silence met his words.

“That, uh… that all?” Brady finally asked, brows raised. Using his staff as leverage, the priest sat up a tiny bit straight and looked Owain over for any unhealed wounds.

“I’m kind of burned out right now,” Owain admitted. His raised hand fell back to his side, and he sat back on the ground beside Cynthia. “I shall record our exploits in dramatic detail later, however!”

Cynthia raised her fists in the air, gaze trained skyward. “Say I used flower petals, because I ran out pretty fast, and now they’re all bloody so I can’t use them again, and there aren’t any flower fields nearby…” she trailed off, arms falling with her sigh.

“The festivities may not resume for some time, if they continue at all,” Laurent observed. He was preoccupied with his glasses, gingerly holding them and squinting at the lenses.

“Are they cracked?” Gerome asked. Minerva lifted her head, briefly curious, then lay back down with an idle huff.

Laurent didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed at the lenses with the cuff of his sleeve, then resumed squinting at them for another long moment. Finally, he sighed and returned his glasses to his face, “No, just dirty. I shall tend to them later.”

“Father told me we completely drove off the Risen, so we can definitely relax now,” Morgan piped up. Brady startled; he hadn’t noticed them approach. They grinned at everyone, as dusty and bloody as the other future children, but in their usual good spirits despite that.

“That’s good, because I almost died several times,” Yarne bemoaned. He and Severa had arrived with Morgan, the last of the group to gather together. “You know what would happen if I died?”

“Everyone almost dies in battle,” Severa interrupted before Yarne could continue, scowling at the battle-wary taguel, “Gawds, and the shops are ruined. I came here to have a good time and I got attacked, again.”

“We’re safe now,” Noire pointed out. She’d claimed the last of the set of chairs, at some point. Her smile seemed to at least lessen Severa’s scowl. “Let’s go shopping later. I saw some stores still intact.”

“Yeah, ok,” Severa agreed. Despite her crossed arms and frown, she was obviously cheered by the suggestion.

“We should rejoin the Shepherds soon,” Lucina suggested. She looked around at the gathered children. A few, like Owain and Inigo, nodded; a few, such as Severa and Gerome, scowled, but still nodded. With the silent agreement, Lucina stood and began to follow Morgan, Severa, and Yarne back to the Shepherds’ camp. The others slowly stood and filed after. Brady was among the last, as he’d almost fallen asleep in his chair. He looked forward to falling asleep in his own tent for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get the hang of writing all of these fellows.


	5. Rival: Part 2/3 [Odin, L’Arachel]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness and light cannot exist without the other, yet they also clash and… insert more dramatic vague wording here.

The sunset illuminated the pale balcony of the Askr barracks, though a barracks for Heroes was naturally prettier then one for common soldiers. Odin and L’Arachel sat upon the balcony, Odin with his legs dangling from between the rails, and L’Arachel perched demurely beside him with not a limb beyond the railing. 

“Today’s clash was legendary!” Odin exclaimed, again. He beamed at L’Arachel with ever-present excitement, “We should team up again, for what force of evil can stand against our righteous might?”

“We are clearly fated to fight evil together,” L’Arachel agreed. She hefted her staff, a potent tool for both magic and thwacking, “In my homeland, my divine exploits are well-known.”

“Mine as well!” Odin proclaims, just a bit too fast, “Legends speak of the great Odin Dark, retainer to the powerful Prince of Nohr. Far and wide I have served my lord in the battle against evil!” Odin abruptly leapt to his feet, despite his nearness to the ledge. He struck a pose, arm outstretched as if reaching for the sun in the distance. “The power within me writhes for release, and I can barely control it!”

“Well, my power is given to me through divine providence, and I have perfect control of it,” L’Arachel counters with a proud smile. She stands, gracefully, and holds her staff out as Odin is holding out his arm, “I come from a long line of holy protectors for my proud nation of Rausten. There is no one better raised to fight against evil.” 

Odin grinned at this challenge, though he spared a glance around to make sure no one else was within earshot, “Yet you behold a dark hero of exalted power! I come from a long line of heroes, all known for legendary exploits! The power coursing through me is the stuff of evil’s nightmares!”

Odin suddenly found the end of her staff in his face, and L’Arachel also in his face, “Then clearly we must determine whose power is more just! You, who claims to have dark powers, or I, a holy maiden of a holy line.”

“I fear you’ll be disappointed, Princess L’Arachel the Holy,” Odin proclaimed, making sure his latest pose made the staff in his face look neat, “For evil has always feared… the Dark.”

L’Arachel actually laughs that; not a sound of mockery, but amusement and vigor and ‘challenge accepted’. “Then our next battle shall determine this contest, and may fate choose the true doer of justice!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t get quite as much revision time today but! This isn’t the end of the adventures of Odin and L’Arachel in the [aptly-named] Heroes universe.


	6. Comfort: Page 2/2 [Yarne, Emmeryn]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The safety of the Taguel is something Yarne holds dear, and he wishes to thank Emmeryn for a past act of kindness. Also, listen, the thought of people visiting Emmeryn and being friends is just good. Emmeryn deserves lots of friends.

Yarne stood in front of the simple tent. He fidgeted, shifted from foot to foot, and in his head went through dozens of excuses to leave and return another day.The chill wind reminded him that evening would soon give way to night. Time continued to pass, and still he hesitated.

But his mother’s story drove Yarne on. Getting to know Panne in the present time gave him the courage to go on and continue the taguel line. Yet he owed it, truly, to the woman in this tent; not just for present Panne’s life, but for his own. Yarne swallowed and stepped up to the tent flaps.

“Lady Emmeryn?” he called, hoping both for and against her being awake.

A gentle voice called from within the tent, “Come in.” Yarne swallowed his nerves, steeled his pride, and stepped inside.

The interior of the tent was simply furnished, but Yarne noticed that everything was made well. Emmeryn herself stood near her cot, her serene smile not quite matching her struggle to put words together, “Hello. Yarne… right? How may I… help you?”

“Hello. Listen, my mom told me the story of how you saved her, and I just wanted to thank you for that. Because, well, in my time, I’m the last taguel, but I wouldn’t even exist if my mom didn’t exist! So, thank you.” Yarne bowed awkwardly, and when he straightened, he realized Emmeryn looked thoughtful.

“I’m happy… to have made a difference. But,” Emmeryn looked into Yarne’s eyes, her gaze serious and her words slowing down so that she may speak easier, “You don’t have to thank me, Yarne of the taguel. That you and your mother continue to survive… is all I care about.”

Yarne met the former Exalt’s gaze, and wondered how he had ever been nervous about meeting this woman. Even serious, she had an aura of serenity. Still, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such kindness. His silence seemed to encourage her to continue.

“I… do not remember everything,” Emmeryn spoke. She paused, as if it pained her to admit, but continued with bravery, “I do not… remember saving your mother. … But. I’m happy… to be around… and to keep supporting… everyone here.” Her smile was soft, but sad.

“I’m glad too,” Yarne said, for a moment wondering what to say. But something occurred to him, and he straightened, “Emmeryn, um. I’m glad you’re around still, because you seem like. Like a really strong person, just like my mother. So, I should get going, but can we hang out? Um, in the future? I want to be stronger, and I think you’re strong in an important way.”

Emmeryn’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, “I would… be honored.” She glanced at her desk, and Yarne followed her gaze to… a chess board. “I’ve been learning… but… we could play together… and talk… if you wish.”

“I’d love to,” Yarne smiled at her, and she smiled back. He found he couldn’t wait to tell Panne. “I should get going, though. Um, goodnight, Emmeryn.”

“Goodnight, Yarne,” Emmeryn said. Yarne left the former exalt’s tent. For the moment, all nervousness was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emmeryn deserves way more in-game supports.


	7. Free Day: Part 3/3 [Odin, Cynthia, Morgan, L’Arachel, Dozla, Rennac]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is the greater force of justice?

Flower petals fell without warning upon the Emblian forces. The sheer volume of complementary colors descending from above astounded the enemy forces. Emblians looked around in total confusion. They looked to each other, they looked to themselves, and they looked to the sky when a pegasus-esque shape suddenly blotted the sun. Even more flower petals fell upon them among a flurry of feathery wings.

“The righteous maiden of the Justice Cabal!” shouted a spry voice from above. The unfortunate target Emblian merely had time to look up before a lance took them out. The others, however, were prepared once their foe was in sight; or so they thought.

“The arcane tactician of the Justice Cabal!” was their only warning: fire flew towards another Emblian, taking them down a mere moment after the first. The remaining four turned to face this new threat, though their resolve was waning.

“The dark hero of the Justice Cabal!” foretold the coming of lightning death upon a third Emblian. The remainder crowded together, hemmed in by the dramatic trio, yet the Justice Cabal did not immediately press the attack. Instead, the yellow mage who’d thrown thunder grinned, and called, “Princess L’Arachel and company! Show us the might of holy Rausten!”

“You tell em Owa--I mean Odin!” barked the perky women atop her pegasus with a big grin. The surviving Emblians didn’t have much time to react beyond confusion.

“Fate has granted favor to our holy mission, Justice Cabal! Come Dozla, Rennac! We shall show these cravens the might of Rausten!” a feminine voice called in response. Resigned to their fate, the three surviving Emblians turned the other way to face the other trio coming at them. One of them was immediately flung by a bolt of divine light, launched from the staff of a fair princess upon her noble steed.

“Gwahahaha!” was about all the second Emblian heard before a short man with a large axe took him down. The third and final Emblian turned to run while he could, only to find a knife in his gut and a shrug from the stabber.

“That’s how life is sometimes,” Rennac commented to the fellow, already hefting the body aside. He cleaned his dagger and glanced up as he did, watching how Odin and L’Arachel faced one another. They stepped a single step towards each other at roughly the same time, dramatically.

“Your Justice Cabal shows promise,” L’Arachel admitted. Odin almost spoke, but she held up a finger to stall him, “However, our contest is not yet over! Not until I am satisfied.” Seeing L’Arachel strike a pose with her staff, Rennac groaned internally.

“Princess of holy Rausten,” Odin began, striking his own pose as if he wouldn’t be outdone, “I, Odin Dark-”

“And I, Morgan!” chirped the short fellow.

“And I, Cynthia the Fair, and us together, the Justice Cabal, won’t be outdone!” finished the pegasus rider. Rennac watched with genuine bafflement as she threw even more flower petals about. He wondered where in the world she got them from.

“We shall accept any challenge from our fated rivals,” L’Arachel declared in response. She grinned with Odin before they each rushed off to the next fight. Rennac sighed and followed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I was gonna write the Leo Trio, but I also want to practice writing Cynthia and Morgan, and the Justice Cabal needs love too, so I went with them. After all, what better group to rival the heroism of Rausten’s princess and her retainers?


End file.
